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Mason

God damn me to hell and back.

Everly fucking Reed.

She was going to kill me.

I couldn't bring myself to stick to that line I insisted on drawing between us.
One minute, I was drowning in guilt, promising myself I'd stay away from her, for good this time.

The next, she'd asked me about my fear, so direct and relentless and pure, that I'd forgotten everything, every stupid thought of letting her go. Then I was moving closer to her and...

And she'd let me.

She'd stared up at me with those hazel eyes like a perfect storm, beautiful and impeccable and so unlike me, and she'd tilted her neck.

Up close I could see the generous caramel dusting of freckles spreading from the tip of her nose to her high- set cheekbones. I was royally fucked.

Everything I'd learned about control came surging to the surface of my skin, threatening to burst through, and I had to wield a grip on it before I succumbed, before I was down on my knees begging for her touch—something.

Anything.

I moved forward, grazing my nose against the skin of her neck.

Soft.

Her skin was soft, her heartbeat thrumming underneath her skin like a small bird set free. Her scent of jasmine and berry stilled my breath.

Fresh blood rose to the surface of her skin, to the dip of her chest. Her skin was unblemished, save for a small brown mole, just above her cleavage.

It stirred some inherent part of me. Numbess spread through my core as her small hand grasped more of my shirt.

I angled my head, placing my lips to her jaw, feeling her pulse like a hammer.

She sprung away at this touch, shifting her gaze away from me.

My ears were ringing, and I heard her mutter something about college before she stood with an apathetic sort of ease.

"Yeah. Sure," I muttered, not sure what exactly I was saying, or what I was responding to.

"Bye Mason," she said.

She closed the door before I could respond.

"Bye, blondie," I said to no-one.

*

Ever

I kept touching my jaw.

No matter what I did, I couldn't forget the way he'd touched me there.

I didn't know what we were, whether there was even a word to describe the mess that existed between us. I didn't want to think about it, either.

What had I done?

I was breaking into a cold sweat. Breathe, Ever, I reminded myself. Breathe.

But, his lips...

No.

Not now.

Not when he was only a few feet away from me.

Not when my first day of college was a few hours away.

I cleared the thoughts from my mind. Blanked it out completely. If I thought about it any more, I might combust.

I decided to sort out my backpack with all the things I needed the next day, I decided to sleep early. It would give me a full night to clear my mind, if anything.

It took longer than normal for me to fall asleep. I burned away the image of him, eventually finding it.

*

The next morning I woke up early.

Everything hurt, thanks to the gallant laps I was so confident I could do.

Geez, I was so unfit it was laughable.

I showered, and changed into black jeans ripped at the knees. I thought wearing an animated t-shirt would be crossing the line a little, so I just shoved on a plain yellow one instead, and a light denim jacket over it.

I chewed on a cereal bar, deciding to just buy food on campus.

It was at a walking distance from the apartment. After yesterday's events, I realized that I needed the walk, anyway.

Trees lined the streets, their leaves a bright, tamarind orange, carpeting the base of their trunks.

Mason.

No.

What the hell?

Look at the leaves, look how beautiful they are.

Mason.

My mind was persistent.

You know how when you try hard to forget something but actually only end up remembering it even more?

That's what I was experiencing.

What an annoying paradox.

The more I tried to forget about him, the more I remembered him.

I really needed to do something.

I stopped in my tracks, gaze travelling up the largely majestic view mapped out in front of me.

The campus was beautiful. A tall, neutral building with an archaic appeal.

I walked into the seminar, tons of other students filing in.

Why did I choose the 8AM class again?

"Morning guys," the professor said.

The guy sitting next to me started typing furiously, around his second paragraph already.

What the hell?

By the end of the lecture, I was a curious mixture of fascinated and fatigued.

It was nothing like high school.

"Since we're only starting out, I'll go easy on you," the professor said. I sighed a breath of relief. "Just do page 5 to page 85."

My jaw dropped. 80 pages of college math? Was he being serious?

I looked around, but no one looked remotely alarmed.

Most of the class were international students—and damn, did they dress well.

I looked like a premature potato compared to them.

Sighing, I packed up my stuff and threw my sling over my shoulder.

I survived yet another class, this time sitting next to an girl with Asian features and cropped black hair.

She offered me a polite smile.

"Hi," she said, "I remember your face from freshman orientation. I'm Cleo. And you?"

I smiled back. She seemed sweet. "Everly. But you can just call me Ever."

"The last class was crazy," she muttered. "Does he really expect us to finish that many pages in a day?"

I shrugged, glad someone else shared my sentiment. "Everyone else looked fine with it."

Cleo scoffed. "They're all too dumbstruck to acknowledge it. Wait till the culture shock hits."

I chuckled. I liked her. "You're still going to do the work, though. We all are."

"Duh," she said. "I didn't bust my ass doing ballet for 7 years to get credits for nothing."

I shot her an amused look. She had the figure for ballet. She was of average height, taller than me from what I estimated from us sitting, but leaner. She must be good at ballet.

"I didn't do much sport other than tennis," I admitted. "Sport wasn't and isn't really my forté. I made up for it with community service, environmental clubs and piano."

"Ah." She smirked. "Piano. Every Asian parent's dream. My Filipino mother wanted me to play piano but my fingers just wouldn't stretch enough."

I laughed, subconsciously stretching out my fingers. "I guess they do stretch a lot, huh?"

Cleo's face was questioning. "Acceptance rates are slim. How'd you get in?"

I looked up at her.

"I took 10 AP classes and somehow ended up getting Valedictorian," I said.

"Shit," she swore. "That's insane."

"I took courses I liked. And I have a... weird memory," I replied. "You're here for a reason too, you know."

She shrugged. "We all are."

"You from here?" I asked, doubting it.

She shook her head.

"Southern Califronia. Right by the beach in Santa Monica. You?"

"Massachusetts. Cambridge."

Cleo smiled. "Forget culture shock, I think the tax rates will kill me before I graduate."

I chuckled, not getting to answer. The professor entered, and the class dissolved into a more orderly calm. 

This class, unlike the other, went much faster. Maybe it was because Cleo was by my side, enthralling me with her extremely neat handwritten notes.

I was a little jealous. I mean, my handwriting wasn't illegible, but it also wasn't so nice on the eye.

When the professor finally dismissed us with another twenty pages of written homework, the sighs were slightly audible this time.

I walked out, flanked by Cleo.

"Who is that?" she gawked. Her voice had me perking my head up to see what she was talking about.

A navy blue sports car was parked outside, one that looked too familiar to me. A tall, dark-haired figure stepped out, catching more than just a few eyes.

I muttered a quick "bye, see you tomorrow!" to Cleo, before rushing up to him.

"Caleb?"

His slate gray eyes shifted to me instantaneously. A slow grin spread on his lips.

"Let's go," he said.

"Now?" I asked.

"I told you I'd make it up to you," he said.

I widened my eyes. "You don't have to —"

"Yes, I do," he said, a charming smile on his lips, "Come on."

He held open the passenger seat door for me. I offered him a small smile, sliding in.

"Where are we going?"

Caleb shrugged. "I was thinking a restaurant or something. You hungry?" he asked.

I nodded. I hadn't gotten to follow up on that whole buying food from campus thing.

Pausing, as it occurred to me, I asked, "Don't you have work?"

Caleb flashed a bright smile. "Technically. But they won't miss me for an hour or two. Larry will handle it."

Poor Larry, I thought.

I bit back a smile, staring out the window. We were nearing Central Park, and I hadn't exactly gotten time to explore much since I'd gotten here.

"Caleb, stop," I said.

"What is it?"

I pointed to the pristine grass, "Can we go there instead?"

His eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Central Park?"

I nodded.

After a moment's pause, he said, "Sure."

We got out the car, Caleb looking a little out of place with his immaculate dark suit and tie, his dark hair swept back. He looked delicious, nevertheless.

Caleb caught me smiling at him.

"What?" he asked.

I maintained my smile. "Nothing," I said, my voice high pitched.

His grey eyes sparkled in the light of the sun. "It's obviously something. Girls don't usually find my appearance amusing."

"Have you seen yourself?" I chuckled. "You're so... proper."

He furrowed his brows. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I didn't reply, my eyes latching on to a nearby corn dog stand instead. I pointed to the stand. "I want one of those," I said.

He stared at me in dismay. "A corn dog?"

The word rolled off his tongue like it was foreign to him.

"Uh huh," I said. "You've never had one?"

He shook his head. I raised a brow, walking toward the stand. "Point proven."

He followed after me. "What point?"

I couldn't keep the smile off my face. What had he been fed as a toddler? Caviar?

"Are you vegetarian or vegan?"

Caleb shook his head slightly. "No."

I looked down at the stall's corndogs. They only had two options: normal and vegan. Vegan it was, then.

"Hi!" I said, "Can we have two corn dogs please? One normal, one vegan."

The vendor smiled politely as I moved to pick out the change from my sling bag.

"I'll pay," Caleb said suddenly, reaching into his pocket.

I smirked. "Your credit card won't work at this stall, pretty boy."

I placed the money in the vendor's hands, taking the two sticks he handed me.

Caleb blinked passively as I passed him his corndog. He held it idle in his hand while I drizzled ketchup over my own.

I tore into mine immediately, my stomach pleading with me not to delay any further.

Caleb stared at me with horror on his face.

"You just...bite it?" he mumbled.

"Yeah," I nodded, trying not to smile with my mouth full. "Like you would any other piece of food."

Caleb hesitated before bringing the corndog to his lips. Opening that immaculate mouth of his, he took a bite.

I raised a brow. "It's good, huh?"

I watched intently as he chewed. "Yeah," he bit out, "it's not bad. I - I like it."

He took a bigger bite this time, making me smile. I sat down on a nearby bench, and Caleb soon followed suit.

Surprisingly, he finished his corn dog before me.

"I'm sorry about the other night," he said.

"It's fine, really," I replied, not wanting to think about it. I'd blocked out most of it, and strengthening that part of my memory would do me no good. "It wasn't your fault. Besides, I prefer not to think about it."

"Did Mason tell you—" he started.

I looked up at him, motioning for him to continue.

He didn't.

"What?"

Caleb sighed, and it seemed as though he decided against saying whatever he was going to say.

Instead, he said, "My parents are having this...charity ball this Saturday and I was wondering if you'd like to come?"

"Ball?" I repeated. It sounded fancy. "I mean, yeah, I'd love to come, but I don't have a gown or anything...fancy like that."

Caleb chuckled. "You don't need anything too fancy. Take this and get whatever you like." He handed me a card from his pocket.

Wide-eyed, I stared at it. A platinum credit card.

"Caleb I can't take this—"

"You just did." He grinned. "I'm not taking it back any time soon, you know."

"How can you just...hand it to me like this?"

"I'd give you the sun, if you asked," he said, winking playfully.

I stared at him, unimpressed, but some part of me melted slightly at his words.

I frowned. "I'm not using it," I said stubbornly.

"Okay," he said quietly. "But you're still coming?"

I sighed. I really did want to go, but the dress—"Yeah, I'll come."

His grin widened.

We walked back to the car more slowly than necessary after getting lemonade (which Caleb didn't seem to like more than the corn dog).

"You're not old," I said to Caleb, out of the blue. I was trying to get somewhere, though.

It brought a smirk to his face. "I mean, I'd like to think so," he replied, "24 isn't old, is it?"

"But you're already working. And according to my deductions, you have a decent position."

Caleb sighed. "I dropped out of high school in sophomore year to join my father's business. He threw me in the deep end and had me work at management level."

"Whoa," I mumbled. "That's...hectic."

"I got diagnosed with depression after three months," he muttered, quietly.

I bristled. "I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't apologise," Caleb said. "It's not your fault. We're all going through something."

I offered him a small sign, a piece of comfort I hoped he received.

"Mason..." I found myself mentioning.

Why? Did I think that Caleb would be able to give me even the vaguest insight on his bitter brother? Why did I even care?

If Caleb was bothered by it, he didn't show it.

"Mason..." He started, pausing. "You should ask him yourself. It's not my story to tell."

I nodded. I knew it wasn't.

Maybe I'd never be able to figure out Mason.

Maybe he'd never let me.

The drive back was sombre, but comfortable. The silence was amicable, and when we reached the street outside my apartment, Caleb stopped.

At that precise moment, he got a phone call. With a silent apology lurking in his eyes, he took the call.

I got out the car, and it hovered behind me for a while before he took off.

I brushed off the initial guilt I felt for Caleb missing work for me. It was his choice, not mine. That call must have been a serious one, if he had to rush off so quickly.

As I neared my apartment, I pulled my denim jacket tighter around myself. The sun had receded into a magenta sunset, casting a dark shadow behind the walls on either side of me.

I turned, feeling as though someone was there.

Watching me.

But there was nothing.

I had been watching too many horror movies for my own good.

I swiped my access card, stepping into my apartment with a tighter hold on my bag. I switched on the light.

The scream was stuck in my throat.

Lit up, I saw what had become of my apartment.

Cutlery was strewn all over the kitchen granite oasis, pillows and clothes strewn everywhere.

Someone had trashed my apartment.

I doubted they were still here, because it was completely silent, but the very thought that someone had broken in...

I walked to my room.

It was worse. My clothes and shoes were everywhere, but when I checked the safe, the contents were untampered with.

If it wasn't theft, what did they want?

Ice flooded my veins, and my heartbeart thundered in my ears. I contemplated calling Caleb back, but he was long gone already.

Without a second thought, I ran out the apartment.

*

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